Tuesday, December 19, 2023

Missing shoes: a sign of Christmas ~ December 9, 1993


David Heiller

The missing shoes convinced me that Christmas is here. The missing wedding ring was the first clue, but the shoes convinced me.
David and the kids at the kitchen table.
The wedding ring disappeared on Monday morning. I had showed the kids at breakfast how shiny the ring was. It had been polished a few days earlier. Noah looked at the ring, then Μalika looked at the ring. Then the ring was gone.
I first noticed it at work. I reached for my finger to feel the ring. It’s a habit I have when I talk to pretty women (like my wife). It was gone.
All day my finger felt naked. We called the school, and asked if she had taken it to school. She hadn’t. We believed her, sort of. She knows the value of that ring to me. She wouldn’t give it away, or trade it for some Skittles, not on purpose at least. But drug addicts know the dangers of drugs, and still take them. That’s the way my daughter can be with shiny gold things.
When we got home, we looked all over the house for it. Mollie said she remembered putting it on the dining room table. That’s the table that you can’t see the top of, because it is covered with Christmas ornaments and candles and wise men.
My stomach started fluttering. The ring is handmade. There’s only one other like it, and my wife wears it.
Then Cindy went to turn on the radio, and there was the ring, and suddenly everyone was forgiven, including the person who probably left it there—me.
As for my shoes, they still haven’t turned up. I took them off somewhere on Monday night, and Tuesday morning they were gone. They might be on the dining room table too, and we might find them after Christmas.
Meanwhile I’m wearing a black shiny pair that I last wore on my wedding day in 1980. They are too tight. That happens when you have babies, I hear.
Christmas is a beautiful time of year. It’s also a time when people forget where they put their wedding rings and shoes.
Malika could turning all things,
 live or pretend, into her friends.
It’s a time when eight-year-old girls forget about their Barbies and play with Mary and Joseph and the three wise men instead. I didn’t know they could carry on such interesting conversations. They were mostly silent when I was a kid. Not to my daughter.
It’s a time to walk through the woods looking for that perfect tree, and finding it along with a few other treasures, like the paw prints of a wolf, and a pileated woodpecker that laughs and flies away like a tiny jet.

If you are eight, it’s a time to wear the skirt that is supposed to go underneath the Christmas tree. The skirt looked good on Mollie. Happy Petersen of Askov made it, and it made Mollie happy. It fit her too. She looked like she stepped out of a Jan Brett children’s book when she wore it. I didn’t think she would give it up, but like the ring, I was wrong. Cindy put it under the tree on Monday night. It looks good there too.
David and Red at the Askov American office.
Christmas is also a time to count your blessings. Red Hansen is doing that these days. He had double bypass heart surgery on November 12, and if you wonder why Askov seemed a bit lonely recently, it’s because Red hasn’t been roaming the streets.
He finally got the okay to drive last Friday, so he stopped in the office for a visit on Monday. He said he’s feeling better. Then he mentioned that he has a new valve in his heart that came from a pig. Apparently the heart of a pig is similar to the heart of a human, which explains a lot about humans.
Red was glad he got the pig valve, instead of the other kind that sends a ball through a wire cage. The other kind is like a check valve, he said. It sounds more like Chutes and Ladder to me. It makes a steady clicking sound, he said, and Red worried that this might have thrown off his rhythm with his accordion.
I allowed as maybe you can get them to change their beat. Yeah Doc, I’d like a heart valve in three-quarter time, please. I’m a waltz man.
Red also wondered how old the pig was that graciously donated its valve. What if it was an old codger, and had only another year to go? Red worries about things like that, with his tongue in his cheek.
Think about it. And let me know if you find a pair of brown shoes.


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